"This feast is turning into a viper's nest," I reflected, my eyes locked on Mei Xiu. She seemed calm, but I knew her well. Beneath that composed exterior, her mind was already ten steps ahead, weaving through possibilities like a master strategist.
A sudden boom shattered the hall's fragile peace. The door slammed against the wall with a violent crack, and a figure stepped out of the shadows. Hair as black as the deepest night, eyes glowing red like smoldering coals—Hei Tian. His name hit me like a thunderclap. A lone wolf among cultivators, he roamed the edges of our world, never a friend, never an outright foe—until this moment.
"Apologies for the interruption," he said, his voice cutting through the air, laced with a sweetness that masked its venom.
The hall went still. Masters froze in their seats, their spines rigid; disciples edged back instinctively, as if pulled by an unseen force. The air thickened, pressing against my skin, heavy and suffocating. A chill crawled up my neck, my fingers tightening around the hilt of a sword I hadn't yet drawn.
Mei Xiu stepped forward, her gaze as unyielding as stone.
"If you've come to bring trouble, Hei Tian, this isn't the place," she said, her voice an invisible barrier, firm and impenetrable.
He laughed—a short, brittle sound that twisted my gut.
"Trouble? No, Master Mei Xiu. I've come to offer my congratulations."
What? Congratulations? From Hei Tian? It was as absurd as a vulture bearing flowers. The room didn't buy it either; skepticism hung in the air like a fog, thick and unspoken.
He advanced, his red eyes sweeping the hall. For a fleeting moment, they lingered on me, a crooked smile tugging at his lips before sliding back to her.
"I brought a gift," he declared, reaching into his robe. He opened his hand, and the entire hall seemed to hold its breath.
A Celestial Origin Crystal. A gem that shimmered as if it had swallowed a galaxy, pulsing with a power so tangible I could almost feel it brush my skin. It wasn't just rare—it was a fragment of the impossible, a treasure beyond dreams.
"For you, Master Mei Xiu," he said, his tone softening, though a dark undercurrent threaded through it. "I know you'll use it well."
The murmurs erupted again, sharper now, tinged with unease. Masters exchanged quick, piercing glances—some faces drained of color, others with fists clenched tight. A prize like that didn't surface often. But I wasn't fooled.
"No one gives something for nothing," I thought, my brow creasing. This stank of a trap, a baited hook dangling before us.
Mei Xiu accepted the crystal without a flicker of hesitation, her fingers steady as steel.
"Thank you," she said, her voice clipped and cool, but I caught the glint in her eyes. She knew it too—something was off, a shadow lurking beneath the gesture.
The hall transformed into a simmering pot of whispers and sidelong stares. I, Kaelan, stood at the center of it all, my heart hammering so fiercely it threatened to break free. Hei Tian lingered, his crimson gaze fixed on Mei Xiu, that smile of his a strange blend of reverence and menace. She clutched the crystal tightly, her shoulders betraying a faint tension, subtle enough that only I would notice.
"You alright?" I murmured, low enough for just her ears.
She flicked a glance at me, a ghost of a smile on her lips.
"Always," she replied, but her eyes told a different story—a flicker of caution, a silent signal.
The chatter swelled, relentless. Peak masters traded hushed words, their composure fraying; disciples shifted restlessly, caught in the undertow. My gaze darted between Hei Tian and Mei Xiu, piecing together the puzzle of this moment. This feast had morphed into a battlefield, fought with words and glances instead of blades, and I was right in the thick of it.
"What's he after?" The question burned in my mind, insistent and sharp. Hei Tian didn't deal in empty gestures. Every move was a calculated step, every word a veiled thrust.
Mei Xiu slipped the crystal into her robe, her motions deliberate and calm, but I knew her—she was braced for anything. And I had to be too.
"I'll keep watch," I resolved, my chest tight with determination. Not just to shield her, but to unravel this game and tilt it in my favor. The future was taking shape here, in this hall, and I'd be damned if I stood by as a mere onlooker.
The hall still buzzed with the aftershock of Hei Tian's gift, but the atmosphere grew dense, heavy as the hush before a storm. He pivoted sharply, his red eyes locking onto mine, a slow, almost cruel smile spreading across his face.
"Tang Jun, the Holy Son," he drawled, each word stretched out as if he relished the taste of them. "Tales of you echo far and wide. Perhaps one day we'll cross paths? It'd be a shame not to find out who truly deserves that title, don't you think?"
My blood flared, a hot rush surging through me, but I choked it down. Instead, I met his gaze with a smile of my own—cold, edged, and deliberate.
"Who knows," I shot back, my voice low and honed like a blade still in its sheath. "But if that day comes, I hope you can handle the defeat."
He let out a dry, clipped laugh, as if I'd handed him exactly the response he'd angled for.
"For now, enjoy the feast," he said, stepping back, his eyes still boring into mine. Before turning away, he threw a final glance over his shoulder at Mei Xiu. "Congratulations again, Master Mei Xiu. I'm sure we'll meet again."
Then he was gone, swallowed by the doorway, leaving behind a silence that weighed like lead. The hall held its breath for a moment, whispers creeping out hesitantly, nervous glances slicing through the tension. It was as if everyone waited for the other shoe to drop.
"That wasn't just a visit," I thought, my brow furrowing. Hei Tian didn't stroll in with gifts and honeyed words for no reason. Something was rotten here, and my gut caught the scent before my head could name it.
The feast sputtered back to life, but the tune had shifted—voices louder, laughter strained, as if trying to smother the shadow Hei Tian had cast. At the hall's heart, my Sacred Purification Pill glowed, a living jewel, drawing covert stares and muffled gasps. The peak masters, usually so stoic, now eyed me with something unfamiliar—respect, maybe, or a fear they'd never voice. A few even ventured closer, offering syrupy praise, but I saw the calculation behind their smiles.
Mei Xiu leaned in, her breath warm against my ear.
"You do love a stage, don't you?" she whispered, her voice a silken thread laced with steel.
"I just do what needs doing," I murmured back, a half-smile tugging at my lips. "It's my role, as your disciple… and your husband."
She gave a quiet huff, shaking her head. Her eyes flickered with irritation—and something softer, a warmth she hid from everyone but me. To the world, she was a fortress, untouchable; but here, in this fleeting moment, she was Mei Xiu, the woman I knew in the quiet spaces between.
Disciples swarmed around, their chatter filling the air with talk of my "generosity" and "wisdom." Empty words, flung like lures. I let them slide past, my attention roaming the hall, catching every twitch, every dodged glance.
"Tang Jun, you're too quiet!" Wang Ai popped up out of nowhere, her voice bright and crackling like embers. Her eyes gleamed with unguarded awe. "Your gift was the best, right? I bet it was!"
"Modesty is gold, Wang Ai," I replied, calm and measured, a faint smile playing on my lips. "A gift's value isn't just in its shine, but in what it does for the one who receives it."
She blinked, pausing, then nodded hard, as if she'd cracked some hidden code.
"You always say things like that, Brother Tang Jun!"
I chuckled inwardly, keeping my expression steady. She was a burst of sunlight in this pit of snakes—too young to spot the shadows, too genuine to be tainted by them.
Lanterns flickered, casting dancing light across the hall, but the wine in my hand felt cold, its warmth never reaching me. The system purred in my mind, hungry, feeding on the emotions swirling around—respect, envy, greed, a whisper of admiration. A notification slipped through like a breath: [100,000 emotion points collected]. I smirked to myself, savoring the quiet triumph, sharper than the drink.
The peak masters traded courteous words, but I caught the barbs tucked into their phrases. Wang Ai chattered on with her brother, her hands fluttering as she rambled about the gifts. I drifted into my own thoughts, the cup forgotten, my mind turning over the pieces.
Then the system pinged again: [Bonus reward: Hidden Movement Technique - Path of Eternal Shadows. Impressing powerful cultivators has unlocked a unique technique.]
"Not bad," I thought, a flicker of pride warming my chest. Another tool in my hands, another rung scaled.
But the floor beneath me still quivered, faint and elusive. Alliances were knitting together in the quiet, rivals honing their edges, and the looks—whether awe or warning—circled me like predators. I knew it: this was only the opening move. The hall was a chessboard, and I, Tang Jun, was just beginning to play.
The doors crashed open with a sharp thud, as if the hall itself had flinched. The lively buzz—laughter, clinking glasses, voices tumbling over each other—snuffed out in an instant. A stark, almost tangible silence settled in its place. Every gaze snapped to the entrance. Two figures emerged from the dimness, and I, Tang Jun—or Kaelan Drakarys, as only a few dared to call me—felt the ground shiver beneath my feet. It wasn't fear. It was something deeper, a primal chill that climbed my legs and nested in my chest.
The boy took the lead. Dark skin, a black blindfold masking his eyes, he didn't need sight to own the room. His presence rolled through like muted thunder, a force that set the air buzzing. I recognized him. "The black boy." My mind reeled, memories spinning like a storm. That awkward kid I'd pulled from danger years back? No. This was something else. Shoulders broad, steps slow and sure, he bore a weight that drank the light around him, an eclipse carved in flesh and bone.
Beside him, her. Tall and lithe, her form traced with lines that seemed to defy the pull of the earth. A sheer veil draped her face, but it couldn't shroud her eyes—two radiant points cutting through the haze, reeling in every soul in the hall. Even the masters, poised in their pristine robes, fidgeted, fingers tugging at silk as if it choked them. She was a flame made flesh, and we were moths, helpless against her pull.
Whispers fractured the silence, brittle as breaking glass.
"Who are they?" Wang Ai leaned toward her brother, eyes wide, her voice a wisp of wonder.
"I don't know." Li Bo answered softly, his words catching in his throat. "But that woman…"
He trailed off. He didn't need to say more. The peak masters traded keen, uneasy looks, brows knit, lips pressed thin. Who were these strangers, bold enough to闯入—intrude—on a sacred night without warning? Mei Xiu, my master, my wife, stood beside me, motionless. But I saw it: the faint line on her forehead, the tremor so slight it might've been a trick of the light. She felt it too—a discord, a wrongness in the air.
The boy moved forward. Each step rang out, a steady beat in the stillness. Then he spoke.
"Long time no see, Tang Jun." His voice was clear, sharp as a drawn blade. "Or should I call you Kaelan Drakarys now?"
The hall halted. My true name. My secret. The air grew dense, choking. "How does he know?" My heart thrashed, a caged beast slamming against my ribs. Eyes turned to me—bewildered, suspicious, ravenous for answers. Mei Xiu's head tilted slowly, her narrowed gaze locking onto mine. A silent question hung between us. I had no reply.
I forced down the lump in my throat, steadying my voice.
"Who are you?"
He smiled—a small, lopsided curve that never reached his veiled eyes.
"Someone you saved once." He paused, the quiet between his words louder than a shout. "But now, I'm more than that."
The woman at his side said nothing. She didn't have to. Her eyes, piercing through the veil, flashed—a light that cut through me, left me raw and diminished. The whole hall seemed to shrink in their presence.
"This isn't just a visit." My stomach twisted, a sour dread rising. This was the start of something vast. And I, willing or not, was caught at its core.